


Wicked Game

by Mianarazta



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Declarations Of Love, M/M, Music, Playing the guitar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 01:00:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mianarazta/pseuds/Mianarazta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is obviously not finished I just needed to put this here 'cause I'm not on my computer.</p><p>Stay tuned to see how this unfolds :D</p><p>(Already changed the status so there should be no more confusion about that :P)</p><p>EDIT: this will never be finished, sorry</p>
    </blockquote>





	Wicked Game

**Author's Note:**

> This is obviously not finished I just needed to put this here 'cause I'm not on my computer.
> 
> Stay tuned to see how this unfolds :D
> 
> (Already changed the status so there should be no more confusion about that :P)
> 
> EDIT: this will never be finished, sorry

“Sherlock!”

A loud yell echoed as 221b’s door opened. John marched up the stairs, making his way into the flat. “You bloody wanker! You better not be home right now! You do _not_ want to be home right now! You want to be really, really far away from here…”

John trailed off as he checked every surface of the flat. He tried the kitchen, the bathroom, Sherlock’s room, his own room. No sign of Sherlock. He would’ve tried Mrs Hudson’s but he was afraid he was going to lose it in the middle of the conversation and regret his words later.

He swept a hand over his face trying to calm himself down, exhaling hard. He picked his phone from his pocket and left yet another text he knew would not be answered.

‘You are in so much trouble’ – JW

He rolled his shoulders and took a shuddering breath, shaking off the last of his anger. _For now_. He went into the kitchen, grabbed his kettle and set off to make some tea. Tea always helped him calming down.

He drank it, ate some toast, took a shower and settled on his armchair with his laptop, reading his e-mail. Controlling his temper was easy after he found the perfect mantra: 'You’ll kill him later.'

It was hours until the madman finally arrived, throwing the door open and announcing loudly, “John! We have a case!” John made an effort not to turn his head eagerly, refusing to show his excitement like he would have done in any other day. They hadn’t had a case in three weeks and he had been dealing with bored Sherlock for that long. He didn’t think he could take it any longer. 

“This one might actually not be entirely tedious.” Sherlock continued excitedly, oblivious to John’s mood. “Lestrade just called, he said he would send the files as soon as he could.” He kept pacing around waving his hands and shaking his head as he spoke. He talked non-stop for some more minutes until he suddenly stopped. John figured he had finally been noticed.

“You’re mad.” Sherlock stated. John hummed in response even it wasn’t a question. He kept looking at the screen, scrolling down, even if he had no idea what he was looking at.

“At me.” John nodded and asked seemingly distractedly.

“What gave me away? The dozen texts I sent you, the missed calls on your phone or the fact that I want to tear your head off?” John was amazed at how level his voice sounded, like assessing-the-weather level.

“They were hardly a dozen, you sent me four texts.” Sherlock pointed out. _Of course_ John thought. Of what he had said that’s what Sherlock had focused on.

“So, you did read them!” Okay, maybe he wasn’t that much in control of his anger. He put his laptop aside and stood up. Sherlock just rolled his eyes at him.

“You can’t possibly still be mad at me because of _that_ , John.” He said offhandedly.

“What? I can’t what?” He was positively livid now. “Are you out of your mind? It’s my job! You don’t get to mess with my job!”

“They would hardly blame you.” Sherlock told him, like he was being unreasonable.

“What?” John asked incredulous. “Using _my_ ID card to access interdict areas and stealing private medical records, then going into the morgue and check out bloody body parts in _my_ name and they wouldn’t blame _me_? Why would you even do something like that?For all they know, I was the one who did all that! If it wasn’t for Sarah, who _does_ know you, I would’ve gotten fired, Sherlock!”

“That job is absolutely dull, John.” Sherlock said like that made it all okay.

“So, what? You decide to sabotage it? Is that it? ‘Cause I can’t find a single logical explanation for it!”

“No!” Sherlock complained impatiently. “I needed those things! It was for an experiment!”

“You’re a bloody genius and that's all you've got to convince me?” Sherlock opened his mouth to reply. “No. I don’t fucking care Sherlock.” He pointed a finger at Sherlock’s face looking him in the eye, enunciating each word clearly. “You. Don’t get. To mess. With MY Job. Ever. Again. Are we clear?”

Sherlock closed his mouth and glared at John.

“Are we clear?” John made sure all the possible consequences were obvious in that sentence. Sherlock gritted his teeth.

“Yes.”

“Good.” John said, backing off and picking up his laptop and making his way to his bedroom. There was no way he was leaving his laptop lying around with an irritated Sherlock nearby. As he walked away he heard Sherlock dropping to the sofa sulking.

Not even half an hour later, with John already tucked in bed, Sherlock started playing the violin. _Playing_ John thought amused, like that could be considered playing. That was straight out torturing and squeezing the life out of the poor instrument. The thought of how annoyed Sherlock would be by his choice of words made him smile. Actually he might have fallen asleep with a big grin on his face. He knew his message had been delivered. 


End file.
